


Routines

by PetulantPenmanship



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, Lady!Dean - Freeform, femme!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetulantPenmanship/pseuds/PetulantPenmanship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic Request! Lisa Braeden/Deanna Winchester (Femme!Dean) - Everything certainly has a breaking point, but the fissures begin to grow and expand long beforehand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routines

**Left side of the bed. 9:55pm.**

Deanna was usually late. 

Lisa lay awake in bed, putting her faith in the television to calm her nerves. Hopefully the distraction could prevent her from jumping to conclusions although it was hard to gauge whether it had ever sufficiently worked before. She couldn’t really remember since her mind always wandered to the worst places whenever Deanna got a call on her second phone. Lately it was every day. 

She wasn’t sure if her heart was ready to be stretched so thin so soon.

The fears were seconds away from boiling over every time Deanna finally stepped through the door reeking of exhaust, sweat and choice cuts of some otherworldly, bloodthirsty threat. 

But she was home.

And those worries were replaced by welcoming hugs and kisses that routinely begged Deanna to make this night the night she gave up the hunt for good. She held steady, measuring her lover’s lips with her own just in case she didn’t come home the next night.

Lisa never made a show of asking for something she knew wasn’t going to happen outright, but the urgency bled through “I love you” so loudly with each passing day that Deanna felt pangs in her chest that she would never admit to.

If you’ve been together long enough, you can hear those things.

Deanna would much rather contribute what she heard to exhaustion.

**Dining Room. 11:00pm**

Late dinners were the norm.

Their joint effort to make it a true family affair made it the most exciting time of the night, although the heavy air of secrecy hung lower and lower on Lisa and Deanna every day. The fear hung even lower, especially since an incident before saw Deanna bringing her job to the front door minutes before Ben was due home from school. 

It was a close call that put more fear in her than Death ever had. 

Part of Deanna’s job before she got home was to come up with a lie about her job to Ben while she was out. As far as he knew, the mechanic business became more of a nighttime routine. She was not going to bring him into something she shouldn’t have been a part of in the first place. 

The desire for normalcy burned through her each day, festering into a disease she prayed would infect and protect her family for as long as possible. She felt the thought of the subject kill her tastebuds every time she held the fork to her mouth, just as he asked what kind of car needed fixing today.

Motorcycle, actually.

2006 Harley-Davidson XL1200L Sportster Low.

Oil leak. Common in those models.

The other problem was the Ghoul’s blood that baptized the handlebars and eventually slid down onto the tires when Deanna repeatedly smashed its head against them.  
It didn’t obstruct much, but there was no real need to talk about it.

**Shower. 12:30am**

Hands first. 

Her hands were always the heaviest. The soap made them feel a little lighter for at least a night. It wasn’t fair for Lisa to have to shoulder these burdens but she did and certainly let her know it. Deanna would tell her that she knew what she was getting into when she signed up for anything having to do with her. She had options the second she found out about Deanna’s actual job description. 

Lisa would tell her that that didn’t mean she was only allowed to stand on the sidelines and watch Deanna slowly self-destruct from them. She had to talk. If she wanted them to survive, she had to talk. 

Lisa didn’t understand that love on its own wasn’t powerful enough to tear down such a wall. Then again, that’s the premise upon which every dying relationship begins to plummet.. 

Hair. Head. Both were muddy. 

The shampoo was just about empty. Deanna made a mental note to pick up some more after tomorrow’s Vamp job. If she was lucky, she could steal some from them once she finished beheading the nest. 

Sticking her head under the faucet was as temporary as the cleaning of her hands. She was unclouded for at least a few minutes, but she realized that her thoughts about the job were nonstop. There weren’t many older hunters in the business, and between her job in the psychiatric ward and the family she saw killed before their time, she was beginning to understand why. 

Chest next. That was where part of her heart was. 

Lisa kept the other part from harm for now. 

It’s a resilient thing in physical and metaphorical form. How many times has Deanna punched it to pieces when her fists landed on Samantha’s face? How many times did it go crashing into the wall with the many phones she threw in a fit of anger? How often did John, in an attempt to strengthen it, create tiny permanent cracks in it instead?

The band-aids she couldn’t see must be overlapping by now.

**Bed. 1:00am**

Deanna’s love was at its most apparent when her hands found their way down the front of Lisa’s unbuttoned jeans. Whatever they could have been arguing about tonight was monopolized by multi-layered lust, born of past battles and ironic brevity in the words “fuck me,” and “deeper.”

Her hands were light enough for now, and they took great joy in scaling every inch of Lisa’s body as if it were the first time they were ever given the privilege. Deanna’s tongue traced promises from the nape of Lisa’s neck to her breasts, signing via circle around her nipple and committing the taste of the unspoken vow to memory. She would go further down if not for Lisa’s insistence that she stay on her eye level, pulling her into a kiss with hands on the sides of Deanna’s face. 

Satisfaction was first on the list, but the little nuances were what gave their passionate, sweat-drenched romps more meaning. Deanna’s fingers were the storytellers, gently thrusting chapters of lovesick lore inside of Lisa until the book broke clean, shaking from spilling footnotes. 

Lisa begged her not to go again with trails of kisses that progressed down Deanna’s body, blessing faint scars that marked the hunter like skin-shred trophies. Each new scar drew a worry that Lisa would eventually swallow along with Deanna once her tongue finally reached its destination. 

Soon enough they began to taste the same. 

The television always put Lisa to sleep, so Deanna kept it on for at least a little while longer during the night. Her arms couldn’t always do the job well enough, but they served as additional help and comfort for the both of them as they snuggled into a familiar cuddling position. Lisa’s body nestled into Deanna’s side and was rewarded with a kiss to the forehead. .

It’s easy to say that there are no correlations between hunting and love if you weren’t forced into a role tailored to be so unexpectedly intertwined. Deanna refused to have a choice. At least for the moment. In the here and now, this was the life that she chose.

She held Lisa closer to her chest than the night before, knowing that something was going to give eventually. 

Deanna knew it would be her. 

There was no such thing as happiness. 

Not here.


End file.
